


Revelation

by asteroidhearts



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Criminal Minds, Inhumans, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drama, F/M, Light Angst, One Shot, Romance, lana (oc) is cool, lincoln is being angsty, most of my female oc's are named lana and idk why, reid is sad, she cool she cool, sooper excited, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5521532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asteroidhearts/pseuds/asteroidhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln Campbell, possible alien, is being hunted.</p><p>I am terrified.</p><p>What would they say if they found out about me?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> so, first AU-crossover. this follows one of the first eps of AOS season 3 where Lincoln is on the news bc he was like a hunted fugitive (bmh bc Lincoln is my child). i was so excited to write this bc i really love Criminal Minds and i think i might have written this WHILE watching Criminal Minds. t'was great.
> 
> also, THIS MIGHT BE A SPOILER ALERT but we know that Lincoln doesn't get caught. but this is AU. so.
> 
> anywho, it'll be Christmas Eve tonight. this oneshot is one of the presents wrapped under your Christmas tree. that said, happy almost merry Christmas (Eve) and happy holidays!
> 
> enjoy!

All levels of law enforcement have been notified, according to Garcia’s report.  There has been a quite-recent scare about _aliens_ , not just in the U.S., but all over the world.  Homeland has connected with the F.B.I. right after we received a direct message from the White House about a certain man.  Based on the reports given to us and the exaggerated news from the media, the man is a threat.  They’ve issued a warrant and released a tip line.  Lincoln Campbell, possible alien, is being hunted.

 

I am terrified.

 

A couple of weeks ago, there was a man in New York who went around town melting metal.  He was clearly distraught; he didn’t know what to do with himself.  It didn’t look at all like he was enjoying his abilities.  I shared this bit of analysis as the team watched the CCTV clips from the incident.  Sharing my side was a mistake: they all disagreed.  Claimed he was a clear danger.  I began to feel nervous.

 

What would they say if they found out about me?

 

But at the moment, that question is obliterated completely from my mind.  The team has Lincoln cornered.  We are at an abandoned strip of warehouses.  It is hot, the sun bearing down on everybody on the site, BAU and police alike.  The ground is pure dust and dirt and I regret wearing a black blazer in this humid weather.  The storage units around us are rusty and degenerate, age ranging ten to thirteen years old since abandonment, stacks of crates and metal boxes lined by each unit.  I am crouched behind a cop car, and Lincoln is just right behind us, right in the center where one side is blocked by three warehouses and the other by a line of five cop cars, three S.W.A.T. vehicles, and our two black SUVs.  My pistol is in hand – I am shaking.  Reid is crouching about two meters across from me.  I can tell he is looking at me with wary from the cop car he is hiding behind.

 

I take a single, ragged breath, hair strands sticking to my sweaty face.  I can feel the magnitude of Lincoln’s power run through my veins, pulsing in cadence with my heartbeat, reverberating throughout my body.  I hold myself back, my knuckles white and taut.

 

I crane my neck around, yelling over the hood of the car.  “You don’t have to do this, Lincoln!”

 

“I’ve got nothing left.  _Nothing_!  I don’t have anything more to lose, Lana!”

 

I clench my eyes shut when he calls me by my name.  I know everyone is looking at me now.  They don’t know that I know Lincoln, or that I met him back in the Afterlife.  They don’t know that he was the one who introduced me to the world that at first I didn’t want to be a part of because I didn’t understand it.  They don’t have a clue that he is the reason that I am still alive, why I’m hopeful every day.  They didn’t know.

 

Until now.

 

My eyes shoot open.  I take a deep breath.  Lincoln once told me that sometimes the best decisions we make are the ones that we spend less time thinking over.  It takes me approximately five seconds to decide on my next move.  Reid watches – something he’s been doing quite a lot recently – as I replace the pistol into my holster and unclip the belt from my waist.

 

“Lana!”  I hear him whisper breathlessly.  “It’s not safe!”

 

I shoot him a glance, giving him a small shake of my head.  He gulps.

 

I place the belt on the ground.  Clenching my fists, I force myself up slowly.

 

“LANA, TAKE COVER!”  Morgan shouts, his gun pointing at Lincoln from behind the trunk of the cop car he and I are hiding.

 

I don’t listen to him.  Instead I stand up as straight as I can, turning around and facing Lincoln.  I raise my hands to show him that I’m not armed.  Lincoln is grounded, unmoving, his arms stretched just a little away from his sides.  Every now and then, I see veins of electricity crackle between his fingers.  His face is contorted into one that portrayed rage and daring, but I know he is not angry so much as he is afraid.  I am as well.  It seems we, the kin of Lincoln and me, are made to be always afraid.  And there’s nothing we can do about it.

 

So we must help each other through.

 

In the corner of my eye, I see Reid has positioned himself behind the passenger-seat window of the cop.  He has his revolver over the windshield, finger on the trigger.  He is courageous, standing on his feet, and it echoes right now.  Prentiss has told me that Reid has harbored feelings for me, feelings that he constantly keeps in check, especially in our line of work.  I don’t know what I have, but I do notice that he _does_ have something towards me.

 

That might change now.

 

I walk around the front of the car.  “Lincoln –“

 

“Stay back, Lana.”  Lincoln warns me, but his voice is shaky.

 

I swallow dryly.  “You’re not going to hurt me.”

 

It takes all the willpower I have in my body to allow myself to keep walking forward little by little.  I can feel everyone’s eyes on me.  Everybody is waiting for something – anything – to happen.  Lincoln shifts uncomfortably.  A drop of sweat trickles down his temple.  I see the drop clearly as though I am standing directly in front of him.  He knows that I can see him.  The crackles strengthen.  I am not fazed.

 

“I know how you feel,” I tell him because it is true.  He has never seen what I can do, but he knows that I am capable of just as much as he is.

 

He shakes his head.  “No, you don’t.  You found where you belong in their world, Lana, and I didn’t.  And now _you_ ’re chasing me down, hunting me like an animal.”

 

“I work for them, Lincoln, but I don’t have to agree with everything they do.”

 

“Do you think that matters?!”  He demands, his voice loud, venomous, and enraged.  I almost back off.  That is the anger that he wants to show.  Still, I keep moving forward, half-steps.  “I’m cornered, Lana!  They all want to kill me!  _You_ want to kill me!”

 

“I know what you’re going through, Lincoln.”  I say, and my voice breaks.  “You of all people know that.”

 

“GET BACK, LANA!”  It’s Prentiss who shouts this time.

 

I turn my head, glance in her direction.  Instead I meet eyes with Reid.  I can tell he is confused.  His revolver lowers a little, but he recovers himself, straightens his arm like an arrow, the barrel pointing straight at Lincoln.  But it looks like he’s pointing at me.  He might as well be.

 

I face Lincoln again.  “Lincoln, please…”

 

The energy at his fingertips thickens, bright blue veins dancing across his palms, riding through his whole person.  If I focus hard enough, I can feel my senses align with the journey of electricity traveling down his bones, crowding on his hands.  He hardens his fingers.  The electricity gains power; behind me, guns begin to cock one by one.  I raise my left hand, signaling them to stop from making any further move.

 

“Has S.H.I.E.L.D. contacted you?”

 

I know it is the wrong question to ask, because once he hears the agency’s name, his hands shoot at the warehouses, sparks bouncing off the metal walls.  The commander of the S.W.A.T. team working with us began barking orders at his men to ready arms.

 

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!”  I yell behind me.  The orders stop.  I face Lincoln again.

 

“How do you know about S.H.I.E.L.D.?”  He asks.

 

“I don’t, and… I’m sorry for asking.”  I gulp again, choosing my words more carefully this time.  “But I know that they can help.”

 

“I don’t want their help!”

 

“You _need_ the help, Lincoln!”  I respond.  I am about two and a half meters away from him.  The fire within him has gotten larger.  My heart beats so hard that it’s all I can hear, for about a second.

 

Lincoln then sends a shot of electricity out of his left hand, and a large black metal box hurtles towards me.  But before any armed person behind me fires, my right hand automatically shoots up towards the metal box.  I keep my eyes on Lincoln, whose eyes widen in genuine alarm.  It is a small scope of what I can do, but it is enough to send fear running within him.  The muscles in my entire arm are at work as I keep the electrified metal box hovering in the air.  I clench my hand: the metal box crunches then collapses into dust, sprinkling the ground with dark grey ruins in a light puff of smoke.

 

My ears ring with Rossi’s quiet yet heavy words: “Oh my _God_.”

 

The power in Lincoln’s hands die out as quickly as the metal box turned to dust.  His fingertips flicker, an occasional crackle here and there.  He is warm, but as realization sinks in, I can feel his body temperature cool down significantly.  He is under control.  He is tamed.

 

“Weapons down!”  Morgan commands.  I don’t have to turn around to see the people’s hesitance because Morgan repeats it, louder and with more authority.  “WEAPONS – _DOWN_!”

 

I cover the distance left between Lincoln and me.  I run towards him, and he falls straight into my arms, weakened and defeated.  Lincoln doesn’t give up easily, but as he wraps his arms around me in a bone-crushing embrace and his sobs ring in my ears, it doesn’t take time to register his crash.

 

I embrace him back.  “I’m with you, Lincoln.  I’m with you...”

 

Slowly, I extract myself from Lincoln, guiding him towards the crowd waiting for us.  Instead of a cop car or S.W.A.T. vehicle, I lead him to the black SUV which Hotch had driven and I had ridden.  He is trembling; I am using just a tiny bit of my _ability_ to hold him up.  Rossi takes Lincoln from me, guiding him to the backseat of the SUV.  I stand by, watching as Lincoln puts his head in his hands, weeping tremulously.

 

Beside me, I feel a combined presence of three people: Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotch.  I brave myself to face them.  Prentiss is concerned; Morgan is unsurprisingly guarded; and Hotch is obviously trying to comprehend.

 

Morgan is the first to talk.  His voice is sharp.  “Explain yourself.”

 

“Not here and not now, Morgan.”  Rossi answers for me.  I glance at him as he slams the SUV door shut.  “Let’s head back to base.  We’ll discuss it there.”

 

Morgan leaves, and I can feel disgust radiating from him towards me.  He feels betrayed and I understand.  Prentiss holds up my belt, gives me a small smile before she follows after Morgan.  Hotch stays behind.  His eyes are like two lasers boring holes into my face, searching for the truth.  I have just cracked the Lana that they knew, the Lana that I presented to them, and that is not a good thing.

 

“Before you talk to the team, you talk to me first.  Is that clear?”

 

His voice is stern, the same tone he used on me when he interviewed me for BAU qualification.  I nod my head and he leaves quickly, scurrying as far away from me as possible.

 

I stand there frozen.  Suddenly, I have a better understanding of what Lincoln must have felt the entire time he was being hunted down.  He must have felt like he was alone, that everyone was out to get him, that there was nobody else to trust.  I feel a variation of that: I am alone, everyone now will be out to get me, and nobody will trust me.

 

I look up because I still feel somebody’s eyes on me: it’s Reid.

 

He stands three feet away from me, just as still as I am.  Everyone has boarded the cars; he and I are the only ones of the team that are still on the ground.  His eyes are watery, heavyset under the curls of his fringes.  He is looking straight at me, demanding explanation, but not really wanting one either.  I don’t know what to tell him or how to address it.  I didn’t lie to them; I just never told them the whole story.

 

“Lana…” he speaks, or attempts to, anyway.  “How…”

 

His voice snaps like a twig.  He doesn’t know what to do.

 

I don’t know what to say, so I break away first, entering the SUV where Lincoln is sitting, who was still distraught and bawling.  When I pull the door shut, Hotch speeds away.  I put my arms around Lincoln’s back, one hand combing through his hair and the other grasping his arm.  I don’t realize that I, too, am crying until the tears make their heavy landing on Lincoln’s jacket.

 

We are made to be afraid.  And there is nothing we can do.


End file.
